


A Dance of Light and Shadow

by Warlock of Glasya (CuChulainnX19)



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And the Former Slave on the Dark Council is Going to Light the Fire, Anti-Sith, Character Death, Collars, Consensual Mind Control, F/F, F/M, I'm Sorry, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Mando'a, Master/Slave, Multi, Pet Names, Regicide, Revan Deserved Better, Revan and Bastila Had a Happy Ending, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sexy Sith, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Submissive Jedi, The Author Did Not Expect This, The Sith Empire Deserves to Burn, Tone Shift, Treason, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24795256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuChulainnX19/pseuds/Warlock%20of%20Glasya
Summary: I want to ask them: if you followed your laws here, to this trembling fearful place, of what use were those laws?—Toland, the ShatteredOr, sometimes even missions as deadly serious as killing the Sith Emperor in his own center of power end in much happier, and far kinkier, places than anyone expected. Including the author.
Relationships: Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Male Sith Inquisitor, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Male Sith Inquisitor, Kira Carsen/Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Kira Carsen/Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	A Dance of Light and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> The SWTOR timelines in this are shot to hell, through a mix of intention and disregard; despite Scourge's presence this is likely set circa when Shadows of Revan occurs in canon. The Sith Warrior's happy-for-everyone-else fate may be expanded on (i.e. referred to in a clarifying manner) in a longer, in-progress fic, but what's important here is that, post-KotOR, Bastila stuck with Revan, and they and Meetra were able to kill Vitiate, return to rebuild the Jedi and Republic, and live the lives they deserved. My Sith Inquisitor isn't quite the canon PC, but his story is close enough, and he has dedicated his life to destroying the empire that enslaved him... and is getting used to enjoying himself along the way.
> 
> As is becoming my custom, the title is from the Destiny Grimoire "Hellmouth."

* * *

Jedi Master Shiri Bondara shivered as she followed a member of the Dark Council across an echoing chamber that felt almost alive with malevolent potential. Lord Khavros Zaal’Khyrron, Darth Imperius, Head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge, felt like a beacon of light in this dark place—not that the recently-appointed Dark Lord of the Sith had previously struck her as an exactly typical Sith lord. He counted among his close followers two fallen padawans, yet neither young woman seemed particularly changed from who they had been as Jedi: if anything, Mhaelara Ullidaris was more aware of her limits, and Danaea Vasilii had miraculously learned the benefits of patience. But Sith were scheming, those who rose to the Dark Council more so, and more effectively, than most—and yet, here and now, Imperius felt like the safest thing around, even brighter and stronger than Master Taeree, the Warden of the Order, at her side.

 _Be careful, Master_ , Kira projected, having apparently caught part of her musing, and perhaps feeling the same strange pull herself. _We fell into a trap like this once before. We have to be careful—I have to be careful—that it doesn’t happen again._

 _Of course, Kira_ , Shiri responded, the thought accompanied by warm assurance (and an echo of the last time they’d had alone together) as she projected back along their bond. _You are stronger than you were, and each of our strengths is the other’s. You will not fall, and I will not allow any Sith to come between us again._

“This is the spot,” Imperius announced suddenly, looking at their other Sith companion. “Isn’t it.”

“It is,” Lord Scourge, once the Emperor’s Wrath, confirmed. “Revan struck the final blow, and Shan and Surik combined their powers to imprison his spirit—until the Hand uncovered his prison, and the Great Galactic War began.”

“Well, then,” Imperius smiled viciously, “it’s fortunate for us that I am an expert in binding recalcitrant disembodied souls—and that my former Master has first-hand experience she was… willing enough to share.”

“I’m sorry,” Kira spoke up, her voice remarkably steady given the worry Shiri could feel vibrating through her, “could someone go over this part of the plan again? I thought we were coming here to kill the Emperor, not… stick him in some sort of mind prison?”

“We are here to do both,” Imperius replied… well, imperiously. It was concerning how natural the role seemed for him. “Had the Hand failed to discover his prison, his spirit would eventually have been drained of energy and dissipated; we cannot destroy his spirit while he is free, but if we recapture him now, before he can empower himself once more, he will be weakened still further, and we will, if not now then within our lifetimes, be able to destroy him entirely.”

“A sound plan,” Shiri nodded in acceptance, sharing Kira’s irritation that they had not been informed of the Sith’s full plan but releasing that irritation to focus on the successful execution of the deed. “Let us begin the Emperor’s demise.”

Imperius’ attendant fallen Jedi stepped forward and knelt on either side of him, falling into a joint meditation as the Dark Lord raised his hand to the door. Taeree looked on impassively, though Shiri thought she detected an undercurrent of interest—perhaps the inveterate diplomat in her considering whether Imperius might truly be, or want to be, on their side. It was too dangerous a thought for Shiri herself to consider, and before she could pursue it further regardless, a seam of light split the door, and the darkness beyond reached out to swallow them whole.

* * *

In the end, it had mostly been Imperius’ and Taeree’s victory, as the most talented Force-users in the group had been critical to combating the Emperor’s dark powers, but it was Shiri’s lightsaber that finally pierced the vile entity’s decayed body and forced his spirit out into the open, where Imperius’ purpose-built holocron had snared it like a black hole. 

Scourge, for his part, had died in the melee, though Shiri suspected that particular loss had been part of Imperius’ plan. The ancient pureblood, after all, professed himself a patriot, and Imperius—Khavros, as he insisted they call him—had openly declared that his motive in joining with them was not only preventing galactic omnicide, but also laying the groundwork to reduce the Empire itself to cinders. 

And if grinding the Empire to dust meant allowing the man who had finally defeated the Emperor to turn a couple of Jedi Masters into his personal kriff-toys, Shiri wasn’t about to argue. Not after she’d walked in on Taeree literally worshiping his cock, and he’d proven that a few friendly touches was all he needed to turn Shiri herself into a desperate, obedient slut, and absolutely not after he’d stripped her naked and shoved her face-first against the wall of his ship, one hand hard around her throat and the other between her legs as he fucked her ass until she came so hard she forgot her own name.

“What are you, pet?” He had asked, pinning her to the wall with his presence and hypnotic, glowing stare. Shiri had struggled against the force of his will, the inexplicable and inexorable temptation to drop to her knees and beg to serve him.

“I am… a Jedi,” she managed, biting off the “my lord” that almost followed it before she could dig herself deeper. Khavros simply smiled.

“And what do Jedi do, hm?” Kriff, she needed to touch herself. But no, she was a Jedi, and Jedi—

“Jedi… serve,” _the Force_ , she meant to say, but she’d just wandered directly into his trap and it felt far too good to escape. “Serve… submit… obey,” she murmured, every word and step into the darkness coming more easily and feeling better and better than before.

“Good girl,” Khavros purred, caressing the side of her neck like the promise of a collar, and she could have swooned except that he hadn’t told her to move. “So, again, what does that make you?”

Shiri’s eyelids fluttered and she leaned into his touch, the last embers of her resistance shifting slowly into arousal at her defeat, and she whispered, finally understanding the devotion his fallen padawans showed every time they looked in his direction, “I… am your obedient slave, my… Master.”

Pleasure surged through her, and she dropped to her knees with a moan. 

“Please, Master,” she begged, uncertain what it was that she needed, but knowing she was helpless and desperate for him. Her past life was a meaningless fog, her name a forgotten label that meant nothing any longer. All she knew, all she wanted and needed, was to serve and be used by the Sith lord in front of her, who had conquered her and reduced her to an extension of his will, a mindless, obedient weapon and tool for his pleasure who would serve and obey as he brought the galaxy to its knees.

She was a Jedi Master, the Battlemaster of the Order, and she had more than enough negative experience with Sith mind control, yet allowing Khavros to dominate her was the most intensely pleasurable, impossibly rewarding experience she could imagine. Her fears and responsibilities fell away, trapped outside her mind like her awareness of the Force when he fastened his mind-melting collar around her neck, and the part of her mind that was still doing something like thinking felt utterly sure that this was where she was meant to be, on her knees for him (or hanging by her wrists, or on all fours, or suspended by intricate ropework, but kneeling at cock-worshiping height most of all) like a common twi’lek pleasure slave—though even at her most mindlessly exhausted, ass sore and tits flaming from his most sadistic sessions, when nothing but her collar and gag felt absolutely real, she knew that to her Master, she would never be anything remotely similar to “common.”

What made it even better was that, the next time she’d seen Kira, she and her former officially-a-padawan were both stark naked and on their knees, her own leash held by Lord Khavros while Taeree, looking every inch a Serennoan noble, had Kira—her eyes glassy and her expression as adoring as Shiri imagined her own must be—chained and kneeling at her side. The Jedi would never condone it, of course, but if anyone could keep a secret from Master Satele it was Taeree, and even if she’d had the ability to speak of it, Shiri was hardly going to tell anyone that the Battlemaster of the Jedi Order was in fact the happily owned kriff-toy of a Dark Councilor, or even a former Darth. 

After worshiping Taeree’s feet, or rather her admittedly stunning, Sith-like boots, while Khavros facefucked Kira and favored Shiri’s ass with occasional, irregular strikes from a nerfhide flogger, Shiri had ended up gagged and with her hands cuffed behind her back, which already felt familiar, and Kira’s face beneath her ass, which at least in this context was new. Still, she managed to wait for permission before grinding enthusiastically on her girlfriend’s face, 

“Force, she’s perfect like this,” she heard Taeree whisper, the comment followed by a moan that sounded like Khavros had decided to keep his hands busy with her. “I worry, though—will she be able to go back to being a Jedi? _Kriff_ , half of me just wants to keep her like this, and I know how it feels for _her_.”

“She’ll be fine,” her Master purred, while Shiri bucked against Kira’s face at the thought of being kept here forever, the ignominy of… whoever she’d been ending up as a helpless, obedient kriff-toy, exactly where she belonged. “You’ve seen Mesh’la and Dinui, you know just how deep Mhaelara and Danaea go all the time, and they have no problems coming back up. Of course, hm… Sol’yc and Kad’ika here might need some help coming up for the first time, and part of that will be having someone to put them back under, to let them know their submission hasn’t been rejected. Think you’ll be up to that?”

“More than,” Taeree’s smile could be heard in her voice, even as mindfucked as Shi—Sol’yc was, the new name sliding in to elide one more forgotten piece of her independent self. “I never had time for—oh, yes—for any of this before we met, but now—please, Master, plea-ah, ah, oh—I need this, you, Shiri on her knees, oh, kriff, thank you, Master!”

Kad’ika’s tongue flicked perfectly against her clit, and in time with her Mistress, Sol’yc came.

Shiri returned later, the taste of Taeree still on her lips and the memory of Khavros warm and tight between her legs, as Taeree undid the cuffs holding her to Khavros’ bed. She was kept collared, naked, and kneeling at Lord Khavros’ feet, which she appreciated; a Jedi Master she might be, and uncommon certainly, but she knew beyond a moment’s doubt that, more than anything else, she was his submissive, obedient twi’lek pleasure slave, and being treated accordingly was reassuring even when the pleasurable fog lifted from her mind so that she and Taeree and her Master could talk of Jedi business.

She had been even happier to learn that Taeree had extended their mission, by arrangement with the Council, to allow them to gain familiarity with Khavros’ operations and determine how best the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge’s resources could be turned against the Empire. That sort of fact-finding, of course, was left to the Order’s very best Consular. Shiri had a Master and Mistress to attend to, and she was going to savor being mindless and obedient and cherished for as long as she could, and the fact that Sith cocks had ridges just made surrendering easier and the rewards even better.

* * *

“Thank you for your hospitality, my lord,” Shiri bowed as she handed her collar back to Khavros Zaal’Khyrron, the Dark Councilor who had kept her and her girlfriend as mostly-mindless sex toys for a standard month, with the knowledge and assistance of a Jedi Councilor. 

“The pleasure was mine, Master Jedi,” he replied with a smile, accepting the Force-imbued strip of leather. “You can keep it, if you’d like, of course.”

“Oh, I would like,” Shiri chuckled, caressing the implement one last time. It was truly extraordinary, able to suppress her Force senses and abilities without inducing the terrifying sense of isolation that almost always accompanied such effects and devices. “But I don’t think I’d be able to keep being a very good Jedi if I did. I’m going to have to meditate the whole way back to Tython in order to avoid giving the game away, and—well, surely it should be the master who holds the keys, not his slaves?”

Khavros almost blinked forward, his hands circling around the back of her neck and waist to pull her in for an overpowering kiss. Shiri moaned into his mouth as he dominated her tongue, letting the power of his will encompass her, flooding her senses with will-breaking pleasure, until he stepped back to look at her fondly.

“I am truly fortunate to have you,” he murmured. “And I promise, someday I will call you to me and you will never leave my side again… but you are an extraordinary Jedi, with much to give the galaxy and many inspiring tales to forge before I steal you away from the world. Taeree can look after you both in the meantime, and it will give me no end of pleasure to know that my good, obedient girls are out there, striking fear and plasma into the hearts of Sith until none are left to menace the galaxy for an age or two.”

“I will not disappoint you, Master,” Shiri vowed, bowing again. 

“I know,” he smiled secretively, before turning to Kira. “It was a pleasure to earn your submission, little one, and I look forward to capturing you again soon.”

“Thank you, Master,” Kira bowed, blushing. “It was… thrilling, everything I most deeply feared but transformed into the most incredible pleasure. And—thank you for allowing Shiri and me to stay together.”

Khavros bowed dramatically. “Far be it from me to separate true lovers,” he laughed, “even if I have rather inserted myself into your lives. 

With one last effort to commit his face to memory she turned, giving an involuntary but delighted cry as he swatted her ass, and followed Kira and Taeree back to the conspiratorial Barsen’thor’s ship.


End file.
